Stavanger Bay we are all just stars that have people names

Once his paws had touched the wet sands, Skellige could feel at peace again. The water lapped at his feet and ankles until he stood in the sea chest-deep. The brine and saline of the water was sharp on his nose and he breathed heavily, happy to be allowed to thrive in his home once more. All the while, the pearly woman made work of the wrappings that she had placed on his neck and shoulder, allowing the ocean to beat softly against the wound and the seaweed over it until the binding fell away and was pulled out into the depths. Once gone, the girl looked to his wound and seemed pleased with the work she had done. A scar but the fur would cover it; either way, it mattered very little to the dark brute.
 
After feeling the sands beneath the pads of his paws and letting the gentle water flow over him, Skellige turned to the woman and furrowed his brows. “You did as you promised,” his voice came as a growl at first, but his gaze softened somewhat. “I will teach you to fish now.” While he was ungenerous, narrow-minded, and oftentimes infuriating to be around, he was not altogether dense. There was something strangely charming about the white wolf and her fresh breath of optimism – a breath he would never share with her.